


one running dog, two spilt drinks & three times meeting again

by shelvesandwhelves



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Dogs, F/M, Meet-Cute, dogs running away, mentions of drinking, mentions of tabloid magazines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 16:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelvesandwhelves/pseuds/shelvesandwhelves
Summary: the three times that you run into ashton, and almost every time forgetting to introduce yourselves.





	one running dog, two spilt drinks & three times meeting again

**Author's Note:**

> this was posted on my tumblr writing blog (@pagesuponstpages) on valentine's day for @killerlukesqueen's [on tumblr] valentines swaps (and i kinda forgot about ao3 for awhile whoops) this is technically my first time writing with second person so sorry if it’s bad but I hope you enjoy it ♥️

 

**The first time you met Ashton** , it wasn’t the best time.

You were running late, they messed up your order at the cafe and to top it off, the dog that you were pet sitting for your neighbor Karoline, who was gonna be out of town for the next four days, was much faster at running than what Karoline had said. Ergo, you slammed into a body, spilling all of your drink over them, and Karoline’s dog, Sadie took off, the leesh trailing behind her.

“Sadie! Come back here!” you shouted, desperately hoping that the dog would turn around and sit patiently for you to clean up the mess that you’ve made.

“I don’t think she’s coming back,” he said, bemused. You refocused back on the dude that had your iced chocolate spilled all over his shirt, nearly soaking through his entire shirt.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” You grabbed the three napkins from your pants pocket, offering them to him, hesitating. If it had been someone you knew, you would be trying to dab the stains out immediately. But now, with this handsome stranger, you had some restraint.

“Nah, you’re good,” he said. You dropped the now empty plastic cup into the trash, that was conveniently nearby the two of you. “And to be fair, I spilled my iced coffee on you too.” That’s why your shirt was sticking to your skin.

“God, I’m gonna be late,” you groaned, checking your wristwatch at the time. You maybe had enough time to head back to your apartment to wash up before you would drop off Sadie to the daycare, and barely make it to work on time. “Hey, I’m really sorry, and I’ll pay you back for the coffee, but I need to find Sadie before I inexplicably lose my job.”

“Woah, woah,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “I’ll help you find Sadie, and I should be paying you back, since I ran into you.” You shook your head.

“No, I won’t let you.” Your phone dinged, taking your attention.

 

**unknown number:**

hi. I think I found your dog?

_omg! thank you!_

I’m still in the park, by the greek.

_will be there in 3. thank you again_

You nearly praised the heavens, seeing that text. Then you almost forgot about the guy.

“Listen, I gotta run, but thanks for the offer!” And you sped off, before he could say another word.

* * *

 **The second time you met** , it was in a target. 

You were getting your weekly groceries (and maybe a couple of extra things) at the ungodly hours of the morning, just because hardly anyone would be there. Not that going to target a few hours later from now was bad, it just wasn’t ideal, especially when other ladies and moms alike would stare at you funny for having too many chip bags in your cart and wearing sweats with slides.

It was at the produce section, you debating if it was worth the extra 1.89 for getting an avocado over the regular salad mix in your futile attempts to have a healthier diet (and also to show any judging cashiers or judging moms that you did not eat just chips and instant ramen ~~even though you totally did~~ ).

“Dog walker?” You spin around, to see him grinning at you, the red basket in hand.

“Coffee boy?” He looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“I’m a boy?” You snorted, turning back to your avocados and salad mix.

“Sure why not,” you grumbled under your breath. It was at this point that you were silently thinking through eeney-miney-moe, because decision making? Who was she?

“Get the avocados, they’re healthier than the salad mix that’s mostly full of sugar from the toppings.” You hesitated, before grabbing two avocados and gently placing them in the cart, next to the two chip bags you picked up earlier.

The two of you continued to walk down the produce aisle, which consisted of Ashton mostly recommending something probably green and definitely healthy but also totally over your budget.

“Are you a dietitian? Or a trainer?” You said suddenly, while he was picking up a bunch of kale. You presumed so, as he was clad in a hoodie, basketball shorts and slides, along with the food advice that he’d been giving you for the past 10 minutes.

“Nah,” he chuckled, “I just like to keep up a healthy diet, especially cause my life kinda crazy and it doesn’t give me much options at 1 am.” You nodded, following him to the dairy section.

“At least you’re better than me, I would eat all the taco bell and mcdonalds if I would be eating at 1 am.” He laughed, tilting his head back.

“You’re just like Cal and Mikey,” he said, shaking his head. You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation. There were a few beats of silence, save for the whirr of nearby shopping carts and the faint pop chart music playing in the background.

“Cal and Mikey..” you trailed. He looked up from the container of greek yogurt, his eyes studying your face.

“Oh right,” he said, nodding. “Cal and Mikey are my best friends, and we work at the same place.” You tilted your head, waiting for more. He put the greek yogurt into the basket, before continuing.

“And we all end up finishing around 2 am, but Luke and I planned ahead with healthy snacks and salads and shit, while those two would order from postmates from the limited choices at 2 am.”

“And I would join them,” you followed, without any pause. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“But now you don’t have to! Cause I’m changing your meal plan!” He pointed at the items in your cart. “Well, except for those,” he said, mentioning the noticeable chip bags and sleeves of cookies that were next to everything else that he had helped in choosing, “those were there before I got here.”

Shopping continued, along with you convincing him to put a doritos bag and a package of oreos (abit the thin ones, but hey you tried with the double stuf at first), because “you never know when your friends hang out at your place and to their disappointment, all you have are booze and kale chips.” You both checked out in the same line, reading the titles of the gossip rags in hushed yet mocking tones.

_“Jennifer Aniston with another man?!”_

_“Kendall Jenner takes another spill on the road?!”_

And then, after he helped you put your groceries in the trunk of your car, he waved you off, both of you completely forgetting to get each other’s number. Or even each other’s names.

* * *

 **The third time you ran into Ashton** , it was at a party.

Your friend, Karoline had dragged you to said party, because “you don’t go out enough,” and to be fair you haven’t but she didn’t know that admission.

The party was at a club in downtown LA, the name leaving you, but it was three things that were seemingly the worst combination: dark, loud, and full of absolutely smashed people.

“Why do we have to still be here?” you said, whining. Karoline shrugged, handing you another drink.

“Because it’s part of my work and I’m dying up here.” Oh yeah.

Karoline’s work had always thrown wild parties, filled with the social elite of the city and those trying to climb to that position. The record label that Karoline was apart of always had “some excuse” to throw these wild ragers, usually along the lines of some artist that they produced had reached number one in the nation.

“I’m gonna find something to eat.” You got up from your spot from the barstool tables scattered on the edges of the dancefloor, your eyes searching for those promised tables of fancy hors d'oeuvres that she would always rave about the following day, hungover in your apartment.

Once you found said table, surprisingly still full of different finger food with names that you could barely pronounce, you nearly tripped into the lined up pastries, due to someone bumping into you.

“Sorry,” he said, with a voice garbled in the loud atmosphere, yet oddly familiar.

“It’s alright,” you said. He turned around, nearly spilling his drink all over you.

“Dog walker!” he said, his eyes lighting up as he recognized your face.

“Coffee boy!” you replied, trying to say it with the same amount of enthusiasm as he did.

“Coffee boy?” someone said, now standing next to him. He had dyed blond hair, with his dark roots and scruffy eyebrows, staring at you with a smirk.

“He spilled coffee on me,” you said, hoping to give some explanation. The blond boy’s eyes widened in recognition, a grin spreading on his face.   
“So you’re dog walker with the same terrible eating habits as me.” Then it clicked.

“Mikey, is it?” He shook his head.

“That’s Cal,” Ashton said, “and the other two are somewhere else.” You nodded.

“Wow, so you guys work for Capitol Records?” Cal snorted, while Ashton took a gulp of his drink.

“You didn’t tell her?” You stared at the two of them, watching them have a internal conversation filled with head nods and shrugs, waiting for an explanation.

“I didn’t see the need to,” Ashton finally said. Cal sighed, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna find Luke,” he said. The combination of names, the ones he mentioned at target coupled with the knowledge that they all worked together at Capitol Records ticked something in your head, but maybe it was the alcohol and lack of food that prevented you from making the full conclusion.

“I’m Ash,” he said, extending his hand out. You giggled, shaking his hand, as you said your own. He then repeated it, and something between a smirk and a grin was slowly spreading on his lips.

“And you do?” He shakily laughed, tilting his head down.

“I’m a drummer, for a band,” Ashton said, meeting your eyes. You raised an eyebrow.  
“Might I know of said band?” you questioned the red-haired drummer.

“I’m only slightly offended that you have all the pieces, but haven’t connected the dots yet.”

“I’m kinda tipsy and I mostly listen to indie or alternative artists?”You shrugged.

Ashton shook his head, smiling. “The boys and I are in a pop punk turned alt pop band, called 5SOS?” His voice got progressively higher, his demenour much more tense than moments ago, or even the other two times that you two had run into each other.

“Never heard of them,” you said immediately, watching his expression change with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

“You’re truly something,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Nah, I’m just me. And here for the free fancy-pants food.” He barked in laughter.

“Of course you are.”


End file.
